My Heart
by Annatheaxegirl
Summary: Valeria became a victor ten years ago. She has a new life now. But her scars have never left, and she is not the same. And when events occur that reopen old wounds, she wonders how her heart will ever heal. A story about unconditional love. Sequel to My Hero. Read that one first please, so you understand this one better.
1. Chapter 1- The Baby

_CRASH!_

"No! Not this year! I won't go back!"

_CRASH!_

"Please, Val, stop! You'll hurt the baby!"

At the mention of my unborn, I break down and begin to sob. I set down the remaining china plates that were in my hands. "I just- I can't do it, Zane. Year after year I do everything for these kids and year after year I watch them die!"

"I know, Val, I know." He kneels and places his hand on my thigh. Even after all these years, the scars still show on my back, just as the wounds of watching the people I loved die are still fresh in my mind. He continues. "But you also know as well as I do that there's nothing we can do about it!"

"But if we all banded together... Isn't there twelve of us and only one of them? If only we would put aside our differences as districts and unify, we could overtake them!" I must still not be thinking clearly. Talking like this is dangerous.

"Shhh, Val! I agree with you as much as anyone, but you have to lower your voice! The Capitol has hurt you once, and I can't let them do that again."

I lower my head and bite my lip. What would I do without him? Who would be there to keep me under control? Suddenly a teenager's voice breaks the silence.

"Mom? Are you all right?"

"Yes Dahlia. I'm sorry."

"I need to get your mom to the train station now," Zane says.

"I'll see you in a few weeks, girl," I say, "Love you."

"I love you too, Mom," she says with a smile, but I can tell she's worried about me. All the time I am faced with the urge to slip away, to let my mind exit from this world that has never welcomed me. It is for her and for Zane that I fight it.

...

I hate this train. Sitting in it brings on such a flood of memories that I usually just have to sit with my head down in my hands, trying to block my mind from the world in any manner. But this year, I find that it's slightly more comforting to instead rest my head on my very pregnant belly. Finally, in just two months she'll be here. But already she's as alive to me as Dahlia.

We stop by the Capitol to pick up Otillie before heading to District Seven. She's delighted to see my overlarge belly, but her usually ignorant self annoys me. She doesn't realize where she's headed or why. Doesn't she know how much damage she's helping to cause? Of course Otillie didn't think she was causing damage when I won, but damage was still done. I have never been the same and never will be. My family was scarred. My brother was killed...

When I roll off the train in District Seven, I let out a shiver. I guess I must be used to the mild beach climate of the fishing district now. District Seven is set in the piney forests of the Canadia region, which is much farther north and much farther inland than District Four.

Why do I despise this place so much? Wasn't it once my home? This was where I knew who I was and what my place in this world was. That's another thing the Games took away from me. My identity. I am not the same girl I was. That girl left with the kiss that was placed on his forehead.

I sit on the stage in front of the Justice Building, watching the kids assemble in front of me. Otillie comes on with her usual exuberance and I'm thinking, _don't you know? Don't you understand? Don't you even care?_

"Welcome!" she announces, "To the 74th Hunger Games!"

The names are Phox Karal and Davina Sarim. Phox is a tall sixteen-year-old with black hair and a strong build. Davina is also sixteen with blonde hair. She is also tall and athletic. Maybe this year I'll only have to see one die. This reaping passes with no drama, and before I know it, I am back on the train. I'm waiting for the tributes to finish their goodbyes and board when I find a surprise waiting for me.

"Another year, another Games. Awful, isn't it?"

I haven't seen her since I first left the District. "Johanna." She looks almost exactly the same. Except for the hollow look in her eyes. I guess I must have that too.

"Sooo... that cutie from Four finally got you knocked up, eh?" She reaches out to pat my belly. "How much longer?"

"Two months."

"Congratulations," she says sarcastically. "Your life is over."

"We already have a kid, Johanna."

"You've never had a baby. Teenagers don't need constant attention. Besides..." She winks at me. "Childbirth."

"Well thanks. I really needed the encouragement. Why are you here, Johanna?"

"They're letting me take a vacation to the Capitol. Don't you go thinking you're the only one who needs to get away from this place sometimes."

"Well I'd rather be in District Seven than in the Capitol any day."

"Not me. The food is better in the Capitol."

She hasn't changed a bit.

...

Just like nine years ago, I don't want to watch the recap of the reapings. I don't want to see the faces of the kids that I will be training these two to kill. But here I am, clenching my teeth to keep all my anger inside me. It doesn't help that almost every tribute this year is noticeable.

From District 1 there's a beautiful girl with a ridiculous name. The boy from 1 has an equally weird name. At least the names specifically I don't remember. The girl who volunteers from 2 is small with black hair and a don't-mess-with-me grin much like Johanna's. Next a boy with monstrous muscles volunteers with an eagerness that makes me sick.

And all of a sudden I think I recognize the boy tribute from District 3. But how is that possible? A name comes to me and pierces me so deep I must take a few seconds to catch my breath. Katana. This must be her brother. Oh... The odds are not in that family's favor...

And then they're showing District 4 and I'm not really paying attention until I hear the name.

"Dahlia Tano."

_CRASH!_


	2. Chapter 2- The Odds

_CRASH!_

But just as the second glass smashes against the inside wall of the train, I feel the Peacekeepers thrust me back and pin me against my chair. Have they been on the train this whole time? They handcuff me and wheel me back into my compartment. But I'm not done yet. Once they leave, I grab everything I can reach and chuck it as far as I can. I scream until my throat runs dry and then some. Anything to quell the pain, the burning pain that seems to be eating me up from the inside out.

Dahlia. Sweet Dahlia. Who survived on her own for three months after her mother abandoned her. Who will never get to meet her sister. Who I will never get to say goodbye to.

...

I am lying on my bed in the training center. The authorities decided I was not fit to mentor this year, so they let Johanna do it. So for the past three days I have been untouchable, unconnected to the outside world. I fact, I feel as if I'm not here at all, not in this room. Instead I'm living scenes from my life, from years past.

It was five months after the wedding. Winter, but still mild in District 4. I was rolling along the streets next to Zane when I saw her. Huddled in a corner alley, her silken black hair in a tangled mat, her thin body barely hanging on. I'd seen kids like this before, but this one, when she looked up and her eyes met with mine, something was different. That gaze triggered in me a calmness I had not felt in years. Something only Wren could even bring me close to. And from that moment I knew what had to happen.

The memories keep coming, fast and strong. I want to scream, to cry, to do anything to get out of this, but I'm still locked out of reality. No sound will exit my mouth; no tears will fall from my eyes. I cannot see the room around me, the ceiling above me, only these memories.

And then comes an unexpected memory from much longer ago. Before I met Zane, before even the Games that changed my life. I was ten years old. I was out in the woods, looking for Scorpi. I knew I wasn't supposed to be there. The tree fell so fast that I didn't even realize what had happened until I turned and looked back at it, at him. Sprawled out on the ground with one hand pinned under the tree. Sixteen-year-old Carwin Ballantyn. He had shoved me out of the path of the falling tree just in time, and lost his arm in the process.

Three weeks later, I stood on the sidelines of the reaping. The name was Conlan Ballantyn, but it was one of those rare years of family love. Carwin was killed within the opening minute of the Games.

A lost arm for a stranger. A lost life for his brother. And that same brother following in his footsteps years later by giving up everything for a stranger. So what am I doing here, sulking in the past, crying and screaming and breaking things, when I should be out there being strong for Dahlia? The shame seems to cut though my heart like a knife, tearing it to pieces. Finally, I awaken from these nightmares and begin to cry.

...

This is my last chance. The interviews are in minutes, and after them I will have to leave for the Games Headquarters. Finally I get a chance and catch her eye. It's like the first time our eyes met, except this time it may be our last. "Goodbye," I whisper, and she nods, tears filling her eyes.

Why? Why me? Why her? I never asked for any of this to happen! Because I know that her name being drawn was no accident, no coincidence. It was rigged because for people in the Capitol, this is the perfect tragic scenario. The daughter of the victors.

Or maybe it was because President Snow is still mad at me. And of course I would never have gone along with Conlan's plan if I had known it would impact so many of the people I loved. Scorpi and Dahlia. My family, my friends, Wren. That is so me. Always thinking of myself and my hatred toward the Capitol and not stopping to think of others. Will my list of things to be ashamed of never run dry?

I stop to listen to the interviews, and can't help considering if Dahlia has a chance. She scored an 8 in training, because she's a career and was entitled to attend the training academy back in District 4. Hearing of this score gives me hope for a few seconds, a hope that is immediately dashed when I see the boy from 2 up close and hear that the girl from District 12 got an 11.

The more I hear of this girl from District 12, the one they call Katniss, the more I am shocked. I didn't watch her reaping, because I was being hauled to my room on the train car, but apparently she volunteered for her little sister. And for the first time, the tributes from 12 were given good parade costumes. Better than good. They were on fire. It probably wasn't real fire, but I don't see that it mattered. Either way, people payed attention to them. And then there was that score. Eleven. The rarest of scores given out, and a girl from 12 took it. This Katniss Everdeen's odds have not been in her favor, and yet she has defied the odds at every turn. I don't know whether to be impressed or angry.

As Dahlia's interview begins, I am completely focused in. They talk of her parade costume, her training score, and then what I'm dreading the most.

"So Dahlia," Ceasar says tenderly, "from watching news coverage we know your parents are victors and that you are adopted. We also know that your mother became paralyzed in the Games and went mad. Do you want to tell us about them?

From the look on her face I know she doesn't want to. But it's not like she can say no. "They're just parents. My mother's mind has healed some, but she still has scars, both physically and emotionally that will never go away. The same with my dad."

Ceasar nods understandingly. "And how has their history in the Games affected you?"

"Having victors as parents has helped me to be more sensitive to the tributes I see every year. And I know because of them that just because a victor survives the Games, their lives may not be much better than if they were dead. Victors don't have everything perfect."

"So do you think you will be following in their footsteps?"

Dahlia hesitates. "I don't know. I want to win, but not for the fame or the money or anything like that. I just want to get back to them. My parents have been through enough. And..." Here it comes, she's about to drop the bomb. "To meet my sister."

The camera trains on me and my fat belly, and I look down because I don't want everyone to see my face. But then the buzzer goes off, and Ceasar dismisses her. How will I watch this? Tomorrow the Games start, and tomorrow may be the day that I will watch my daughter die.

* * *

**REEEEVIIIIEEEEWWWWW! Come on, haven't you figured it out by now? I want your opinions, negative or otherwise! That's how I make my stories better! So please, I'm begging you, review! That is all.**


	3. Chapter 3- The Allies

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the 74th Hunger Games begin!"

There she is. Standing on her pedestal, ready to go. This is so hard. How can I watch what's ahead? I was there once. Standing on my own pedestal, taking in the scenery, trying to prepare myself for the gong. Knowing I could be dead in less than a minute.

The Cornucopia is set in a clearing; on one side of it is a field of tall grass, on another a lake, and on yet another side thick piney woods. And there they all stand; all of them bitter enemies. They're all eyeing different weapons inside the Cornucopia. The girl from 2 seems fixed on an array of knives. The monstrous boy, Cato I think, has his eye on a large, elegant sword. Katniss is gaping at a shiny silver bow and a sheath of arrows.

Then the camera turns to her district partner, Peeta, as he shakes his head at her, warning her not to head in there. Peeta had announced his love for Katniss in his interview, but as a mentor, I know better. More than likely it was just an angle to get sponsors.

Dahlia's jumping off just as we hear the gong and I'm thinking, no! Head for the woods where you'll be safe! But I also know that since she grew up with a family about as rich as you can get away from the Capitol, she doesn't know as well as some of the others how to be hungry, to find her own food in the wild.

She's running toward the Cornucopia. She's fast, unlike how her mother used to be. As she reaches down to pick up a sickle, she narrowly dodges a large rock thrown by the boy from District 11. Dahlia stands up, and her sickle purposely avoids the girl from District 1. I'm trying to figure out why when I remember that she's a career. She's most likely allied with the others.

More tributes near the Cornucopia. The cameras aren't on Dahlia all of the time, but I see her every now and then. Through a splatter of blood appears Dahlia's first kill. Davina. The girl from District 7. Then she turns and runs after the boy, Phox.

As he falls, I realize something. She's doing that for me. So I won't be obligated to sign them up for sponsors. So I won't have to worry about caring about them anymore. To ease the conflict within me. I sigh. She's fighting for her life and yet thinking of me.

It's not long before there are only five careers and two other tributes on the plain near the Cornucopia. The careers watch in shock as Peeta picks up a girl by her neck and slits her throat with his knife.

"Hey Loverboy," shouts Cato, "we could use you with the alliance!"

"You sure?" Peeta shouts back.

"Of course," says the blonde girl from 1, "you're pretty good."

Peeta drops the girl's body and says with a smile, "How about Katniss? I know where she is, and I can take you to her."

Now it's Cato's turn to smile. "All right. You'll both be pretty valuable allies. It's a deal then."

"Deal."

Then a new voice pipes up from inside the Cornucopia. "I can help you." The scrawny boy from 3 who I think was Katana's brother cautiously steps out.

"Really?" asks the dark-haired girl from 2, raising her knives. "How so?"

The boy covers the sides of his mouth with his hands and whispers something. The careers and Peeta smile. Then he adds, "And I can be your guard."

"Okay," says Cato reluctantly, "but one mistake and you're dead."

The rest of the day is uneventful as the five of them and Peeta go out hunting for the other tributes, leaving the smaller boy behind. I pull myself away from the screen and make my way to my compartment in the Games Headquarters. I go to sleep with my hatchet clutched in my hands, as I usually do when I'm not with Zane.

Tonight my nightmares are especially terrible. I see every Hunger Games I've ever watched or mentored for, all with Dahlia right in the middle. Finally I'm back in the Games myself. I'm haunted by the faces of the tributes who died because I lived. Katana. Gia. Conlan. It's been nine years, and still I can't forgive myself for their deaths. What would have happened if I hadn't been so caught up in my own selfish, vengeful desires? I wake up sweating and crying.

I hurry back to watch the continuing coverage of the Games. I let out I sigh of relief when I see Dahlia. So she's still alive. For now. They show replays of what happened in the night. The career pack came upon only one girl. She had built a fire because it was unbearably cold, and they tracked her down and killed her. The cameras also showed Katniss, silent as a stone, up in a tree, watching their every move. Peeta confirmed my suspicions that he had only been misleading the group when pointed out the direction Katniss went in even though it was clear to all of us with an outside view that he had no idea where she is.

This morning, however, they don't show much of Dahlia because there is something more interesting going on. Katniss has not found water yet and throughout the day begins to deteriorate from dehydration. So most of the day they show her stumbling along, gasping for water.

I do get to see a little more coverage from the camp down by the lake. I find out what the scrawny boy -Nolan, I think- well I find out what his plan was. Somehow he manages to unearth the mines from around the starting pedestals, reactivate them, and rebury them around the large pyramid of supplies left over from the Cornucopia fight. Now they will be able to retrieve supplies as needed, as long as they know the correct path in, and no one else will have access to their bounty. Perfect. He has his sister's cleverness.

Then something unexpected happens. I begin to watch the Games intently. As she stands on the verge of death, I realize I care about this Katniss girl. But why? I don't know her. She's my daughter's enemy. And yet, I feel as though she's important. That somehow she will complete a piece in me, fulfill a wish. How that's even possible, I don't know. What I do know is that I will not go to bed tonight. I will see if she survives.

Katniss stumbles and falls. I am dismayed, thinking that no, she'll die, just another fallen tribute. Then I notice what her fingers are tracing. _Get up_, I'm thinking, _that's mud! There's water near!_ Her mind must be too foggy to process it. All of a sudden it hits her like a lightning bolt. Her head jerks up and she crawls through a tangle of plants to a pond.

A commotion wakes me. I must have fallen asleep here in the headquarters, and now all of the other mentors and the Capitol people are responding to what's on the screen. I try to focus my eyes and make sense of what I see. Fire! The trees are ablaze with it. The camera jumps between footage of careers and other tributes screaming, running, jumping. Finally, most of them seem to have gained control when the next twist comes.

The woods come alive with new threats; each designed to test a tribute's strength. A tiny tribute must crawl under a tight space under a fallen tree to save her from the flames. A monstrous one heaves a large rock out of the way. Katniss dodges fireballs designed to test her agility. For the careers, their mass supply of weapons comes in handy against a pack of tiny vermin. Capitol-bred, genetically-altered rodents with an assumingly dangerous bite.

I release my held breath as it seems to be working. They have managed to avoid bites by putting their swords and spears to their full use. Almost all of the beasts are dead when one of them lunges toward a girl. She jumps back and slams into a burning branch. The scream that exits my lips is in sync with hers as Dahlia's shoulder bursts into flame.


	4. Chapter 4- The Ocean

Several pairs of hands hold me up from behind, and I think I must have slipped out of my chair, but I keep watching. Peeta has beaten out the flame on Daliah's shoulder, although she looks badly burned. I shout at the screen as Cato insists they keep moving on even though many of them seem to be substantially slowed down by minor or else not-so-minor burns.

Katniss also seems to have been burned, and though she's been slowed down too, it looks as if the career group will soon be nearing her. Obviously the fire was meant to drive them together, and it worked.

Why do I want so badly for Katniss to survive? If she lives, Dahlia dies, and that's a fact. Besides, I have no real connection to her. I don't know her, don't know anything about her, have never even met her. She could be a terrible person and I wouldn't even know it. So why do I care about her?

I must put my puzzling aside for a minute because Dahlia and the others have caught up to Katniss and are chasing her through the forest. They're faster than her, and are gaining on her, but she can climb trees. So can they, of course, but her small frame can be held up in branches that are at least twenty feet higher than their heavily muscled bodies can reach. So after a few failed attempts at climbing up after her, the careers finally decide to make camp for the night under her tree. I decide that I must also head back to the Games Headquarters dorm and go to bed.

I wake to a commotion in the dorm. At this point in the Games, a commotion like this can only mean one thing: action in the arena. I hurriedly scramble up, get dressed, and wheel out into the hall. Johanna quickly spots me and pushes me along, fighting the crowd, until we are back in the main headquarters.

It is set up much like an ancient sports bar. It is the place most of the victors and mentors spend their time during the Games, not only because there are television sets everywhere, but because the richest people in the Capitol are here too, so we can sign up the sponsorship deals for our tributes. Many of the victors particularly enjoy the abundance of alcoholic drinks here as well, although I've never had much of a taste for alcohol.

My eyes turn to the screens. It isn't even dawn yet. Katniss is sawing something with her knife. A branch. From the tree she's in. But why? Then I see it. On the end of the branch is a wasp nest. And not just any nest; this one belongs to Tracker Jackers.

Tracker Jackers. The very words bring shivers up my spine. Huge, golden, genetically engineered wasps with stings that cause hallucinations and are excruciatingly painful, if not lethal. Katniss is sawing off the branch on which it rests, and it will fall to the ground just next to her friends in the camp below.

_Yes_, I think. Wait, no! If she succeeds, Dahlia will die. It's likely, anyway. Conflicting emotions rise from within me, and my mind battles my heart as I try to tell myself that I must hope for Katniss's death, knowing that she must be stung to death now if Dahlia is to survive.

And then it happens. The branch gives way and seems to tumble to the ground in slow motion. The sleeping careers aren't sleeping anymore as they scream and thrash, struggling to get the tiny beasts off of them. They take off running as steadily as they possibly can toward their lake. All of them except Glimmer, the girl from District 1. She makes it no more than a few steps before she falls to the ground, overcome by terror as the wasp venom seeps into her body.

Then the camera turns to my daughter. She has made it fifty feet through the woods, but now they are too much for her, and she falls. She is not thrashing anymore, as Glimmer was, but seems to be paralyzed as the wasp venom seizes her limbs.

The television is not letting me watch Dahlia; it insists on focusing on Glimmer, who is not dead yet, but may as well be. Katniss, who must have gotten out of the tree, looks as if she's trying to pry something out from under Glimmer's body. But I never get the time to focus my eyes to see what it is.

The blast of the cannon makes my ears ring. The camera turns back one more time, and I swallow hard as I look at my daughter's dead body. It has been horribly disfigured by the Tracker Jacker stings, and knowing that I will have to bury her like this makes my heart ache even more.

I brace myself for the surge of madness that should follow, but nothing comes. My mind is clear. Silent tears begin to run down my face. Not loud sobbing or choking, just tears. I feel the hands, one by one, slowly come to rest on my shoulders. I am sane. In the face of another tragedy in my life, I have finally held strong.

In less than two hours, I board a train headed for District 4 from the Capitol station. The Games kept going, but I haven't watched them. Zane and I need to do this together.

At the station, a car comes to pick me up, but I refuse. The Victor's Village isn't far, and I want to stop somewhere first.

I roll along the cobblestone streets of my district. Two home districts. Not many can say that. But now, District 7 is such a haunting place to me. It brings up awful memories of the 64th Hunger Games, and of my brother's death. District 4 is more of a home to me now.

I make my way through the village, where Zane use to live before the 66th Hunger Games. He won two years after me, but he was eighteen, whereas I was only fourteen at the time of my victory, so he's two years older than me. As a boy, he worked on some of the more rocky beaches of the district, catching the rare fish that only swim there with nets, then spearing them with tridents.

Another District 4 victor, Finnick Odair, who won the year after me, became victor partly because of the skill that came from this job. But Finnick was only fourteen, and when you're that young, you just can't have the kind of skill it takes to win on your own. His victory was primarily because of his looks. The sponsors were practically tripping over each other to send him anything he needed or wanted. Tall and muscular, with bronze hair and beautiful sea green eyes, I have to admit that even now he is gorgeous. But Finnick and I have always just been friends. At first this was because I thought he was too cocky, and too much of a player. When he's in the Capitol, he flirts with any and every girl, spends the night with them, and then he leaves, and once he's gone he never comes back. So I was thankful when he left me alone after Zane and I got married. But one day I found out something that changed every bad thing I had ever thought about Finnick Odair.

It was summer, right before the 70th Hunger Games, and for a year he had been acting weird around a young victor named Annie Cresta. He would blush when she talked to him, and when he talked back to her, instead of his usual seductive voice, you would hear something sweeter, kinder. It was obvious she loved him, but I was more skeptical that he loved her back. I wanted to warn her. "Don't be a fool!" I wished I could tell her. "He'll abandon you as soon as he gets what he wants." But I didn't, because like me, she lost her sanity after the Games, and unlike me, I don't think she'll ever get it back.

Then one day, walking by his house in the Victor's Village, I overheard a conversation I probably shouldn't have, between Finnick and someone who sounded important.

"No!" Finnick shouted. "Tell the president I can't keep doing this!"

"Mr. Odair, the president is getting impatient. There are many in the Capitol who are paying an exorbitant price for you."

"I don't care! I love Annie now, and I can't keep doing this to her! It was bad enough before, but now I'm hurting her too!"

"You are aware of the consequences if you refuse, Mr. Odair?" Silence. "Fine. I will inform the president."

Finnick didn't go to the Capitol during the Games that year. But it was only a week after I overheard the conversation that I also heard that Finnick's mother had died in a boating accident. So with tears glinting in his blue-green eyes, he reluctantly went back to the Capitol during the 71st games.

Since then, I found out that the same things had happened to Johanna. Except she never gave in. Now she has no family, no friends, but also no one that Snow can use against her anymore. Well, maybe there's me, but I have to be kept alive because I'm still being punished for my own actions against him.

I turn off the village streets and down a path to the beach. My wheels crunch against the sand. The ocean. One of the things I've always liked about District 4. No other district gets to experience this beauty. We're not allowed to swim in it though, not for fun, and there are guards to make sure that rule is followed. But most people in the district are taught to swim, anyway, either for our jobs or so we can save someone if there's an accident.

I've never swam, as there wasn't any place to learn in seven. I suppose it might be possible for me to still learn, but doubtless none of the authorities here would think it's a good idea to teach a paraplegic to swim, and the idea of being surrounded by all that water is frightening to me anyway.

As I stare as the vast expanse of beauty that lies before me, I consider the cruelty of our enemy and all they have taken from us. Millions of people live in immense poverty. Hundreds of innocent teenagers have been killed, all of their families wounded beyond repair. Even the victors, who have escaped poverty, who no longer face the threat of the Hunger Games, the ones who are supposed to have it all together, we have our own set of problems. We face the guilt, the regret, all the psychological scars that come from the arena, and we carry them with us for the rest of our lives. No one who goes into the arena and comes out again comes out the same person. The Capitol also took from me the ability to walk, and now they have taken my daughter from me as well.

And I will never forgive them for that.


	5. Chapter 5- The Uprising

"Val!"

He wasn't expecting me. Zane had been sitting in one of our big, comfortable chairs, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. But once he saw me in the door, he jumped up, ran to me, and picked me up. I feel his strong arms around me, supporting me, as they have so many times. Most people would rather be more self-sufficient, but not me. Zane and I are co-efficient, always supporting each other, always helping each other. So I let him carry me a lot.

But tonight, as he carries me to the chair he was in earlier, I absolutely don't know what I would do without him. I sit on his lap, and there we stay for what seems like forever, wrapped in each other's arms, crying, comforting each other. My fingers stroke his long black hair, and his rub my pregnant belly. Somehow, we make it through the night this way.

In the morning though, we both realize we can't stay like this for truly forever. So I say what both of us are thinking.

"What are we going to do?!" I choke out between the tears that I had expected to run dry over five hours ago.

"I don't know," he chokes back. "I really don't know."

But really, I do know. We are going to get through this, and we are going to do it together. So that's what we do. We make it through the day together, and we stay strong for each other. Even when the wooden box arrives on our doorstep, we calmly bury her in our back yard, placing flowers next to her memorial.

We watch the rest of the Games, because we have to. We watch that little girl die, we watch Katniss and Peeta pretend to fall in love, and we watch Katniss defy the Capitol by holding out that nightlock. And as much as it pains me to admit, I am glad to see them win, because they just might be the nudge it takes to urge the people of this country to action.

After the Games, we painfully continue with our lives for about a month, until finally….

"ZANE!" I screech.

He doesn't have to ask. "Let's go!" he shouts, and wheels me right out the door and to our car. There are no real doctors in the districts, but there is an apothecary shop that will have to suffice, because neither of us know anything about delivering babies. And twelve exhausting hours later….

She is perfect. My baby. My child. My own flesh and blood in this tiny bundle I hold in my arms. I worried I would not like her. I usually don't like babies. They are gross and slobbery and snotty and often not as cute as most girls would insist. But this one… how could I do anything but love her? She is perfect, and she is mine.

But she was also born in the midst of our mourning. So when Zane asks me what we are going to name her, I calmly tell him, "Maurissa," and he agrees.

In the next few months, I struggle to raise a newborn as Zane helps to plan an uprising. Yes, an uprising. I am delighted to find that enough people have been motivated enough to finally do this. As uneasy as I am about the idea of raising a small child in wartime, I am ready. If a revolution does not happen soon, it never will.

Zane does not tell me much information about the uprising. That's fine with me. It would be too dangerous for him to trust me with stuff about it, and I know it. I only know that my job will be to get the Peacekeepers out of the Children's Home to avoid a hostage situation. I will be part of a small group of young women with infants (though I will be the only one in a wheelchair), and the idea is that if we can get there before the uprising really starts, the Peacekeepers will be less suspicious of us, and once we're in we can flush them out.

The target day is set for exactly a week after the Victory Tour comes through the district. As Katniss and Peeta stand on the stage, I remember my own Victory Tour. Not much of it, of course, because I was in such a fog at the time, but I do recall some.

I remember having to say the words that I didn't mean, that I would never say if they were my own. Most people do not love the Capitol enough to say that stuff, but I had, as I still have, a hatred for them that could never go away no matter how many riches they granted me for my victory.

I remember the faces looking up at me, the ones that were supposed to act happy for my victory, but really all I could see was anger. Some were angry not at me, but at the Capitol, for putting them through this. Some, more those in the Career districts, were angry because a girl from District 7 won instead of their district. But some, most actually, were angry at me because Conlan specifically killed their tributes to save me. So, by default, I killed them.

But most of all I remember looking at the families, standing on the stage in front of giant portraits of their fallen tributes. Especially the family for the girl right here in this district, because she was about to kill me, but instead Conlan killed her, and I won. And now I am right here, in the very place they were ten years ago. The irony hurts. This, I realize, is why it has taken so long for a revolution to start. The Games were a very clever move on the Capitol's part. They have made the districts enemies of each other. So I make sure to catch Katniss in the eye and show her that I forgive her. Because she was only trying to survive. Wasn't I, too?

A week later, we are all in our places. I clutch Maureen in my arms, but there's a gun in the side pocket of my wheelchair. Zane has already left to play out his role, but I am still in the square. My signal to head for the Children's Home and for others to begin their parts will be the lights flashing five times in the windows of our Justice Building. I've just seen them flash twice when a pain like nothing I've ever experienced, not even in childbirth, tears through my left side.

A bullet! I've been shot! But Maureen is okay. Crying, wailing really, but okay.

"Mrs. Tano!" Why is that Peacekeeper shouting at me? "The President requests your presence!" That's why.

I reach for my gun, but another Peacekeeper shoots my hand. I scream as my baby is ripped from my arms. There are many people around, but this is a battle. No one will notice me. I am blindfolded and handcuffed and lifted out of my chair. I am truly helpless now. As the Peacekeeper runs off with me in his arms, the only thing I can do is scream. The last thing I remember is the butt of his gun slamming into my head.

* * *

**Ok, so I know she probably wouldn't be doing anything like that, but hey, how am I supposed to know anything about uprisings? Oh, and I'm kind of having fun naming my characters, especially Conlan and Maureen. Seriously, look up their name meanings. Now I will leave you at this awesome cliffhanger as I go on vacation for a while. Happy waiting, and remember, you read, you review, you got it?**


End file.
